Page 119 of Whispers in the Dark


Font Size:

The room went still.

Tristan looked over at her. “How do you know?”

“Because Elias told me. Tristan, Paul, you’ve seen Mara. Henry Byron. Ethan has a list of others.” Her voice shook. “And now we know Alex was being prepped for more. Elias said if they didn’t get what the head scientist wanted from them, she didn’t ‘reset’ them. She erased them. And if that didn’t work, they died.”

James exhaled slowly, looking at the screen again. “This is more than reconditioning. This is identity theft on a cellular level.”

Charlotte leaned forward, whispering to Alex again. His eyes fluttered open, barely, locking onto hers. “I’m here,” she murmured. “You don’t have to fight this alone anymore.”

“I… remember you,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I didn’t want to forget.”

“You didn’t. I’m Charlotte,” she whispered back. “You held on.”

James watched, something flickering in his expression—relief, maybe. Or awe.

“He’s still fighting,” he said quietly. “That gives us time. I need to reach out to some people.”

Tristan walked over to his brother. “Plan?”

“Get the fever down. Find the source.” James placed his gloved hands around his neck. “Get me that scan. I need to speak to some people.” Two technicians wheeled in a BrainSense monitor and leads. “I want to see the electricity these things are putting out. I also want to see his lab work. No decisions until I have the necessary data.”

Charlotte sat beside Alex with his hand in hers, whispering steady words into the fractured spaces of his mind. Not letting go. Not letting them win. Not again.

The room smelledlike stale coffee and antiseptic. A dry-erase board sat untouched on the wall, and a half-dead plant wilted in the corner, forgotten. The table was cluttered with files, phones, and printouts—documents Noah had pulled together in the last three hours, half of them from systems he probably wasn’t supposed to have access to.

Ethan stood at the head of the table, arms folded, jaw tight. Graham Cullen paced near the window, tapping the edge of a pen against his palm. Brad sat with his elbows on the table, rubbing the tension from the back of his neck, while Noah leaned against the far wall, eyes glued to his laptop screen.

Alex was alive—for now, but they all knew the fight was stealing his strength.

“Stokes goes down first,” Ethan said finally, breaking the silence. “He had access, clearance, and motive. He played both sides—Alex nearly died because of it.”

Noah didn’t look up. “He’s smart. He didn’t leave much. But he made one mistake—he used one of the task force’s scrambled lines to reach someone inside the prison. It routed through a dead switchboard in Tulsa.”

“Let me guess,” Brad muttered, “a number in Warden Shepler’s office?”

Noah nodded. “Bounced twice, then direct. Not enough for an arrest, but enough to put pressure on her.”

Graham stopped pacing. “The warden won’t break. Not unless we put something heavy in her lap. And Fields? She lied to us. Both times.”

Noah leaned forward, jaw tightening. “Fields was covering for someone. She looked scared, not defiant. I don’t think she’s the mastermind—I think she’s stuck in the middle.”

“She’s still dangerous,” Ethan said. “She helped move Elias in and out of that facility; she’s already neck-deep.”

“We need to find the leak in Medical,” Graham added. “Somebody inside gave Monroe, or whoever’s running this, access to the schedules, to Ward’s health reports, even to Charlotte’s visitor logs. That’s how they planned the handoffs. That’s how Elias was moved in and out without raising alarms.”

Noah scratched his head. “I’ve run Elias Ward through every database I have access to. Nothing pops even with any evolution of the name.” He inhaled as he opened his laptop and typed. His brows pinched, waiting.

Brad looked at Noah. “Can we trace comms inside the prison? Something beyond the warden’s office?”

“I’ve already got a list of personnel who accessed the system on restricted hours. One name came up twice in unusual time blocks: a med tech named Pratt.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “You think he’s the leak?”

Noah shrugged. “Or a delivery boy.” He shook his head. “Son of a bitch. There it is. Eli Fields. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because we’re too close to this situation. And you’re exhausted like the rest of us. Charlotte being stalked. Mara Dwyer. The reappearance of Henry Byron. Alex. That’s a lot of worry to filter through.” Brad pressed his lips together.

The other men all agreed.